


Purcell

by WinterMagnets



Category: Real Person Fiction, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Music, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-14 01:29:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12996882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterMagnets/pseuds/WinterMagnets
Summary: Carrie is unhappy in love. One chance encounter and one close escape change things forever.





	1. Chapter 1

She drives aimlessly through the town listening to music on the radio. It’s been one of those days and all she wants to do is to forget about the world, her obligations, and the people around her. Suddenly she recognizes the mop of unruly hair – it’s Thomas, Tom, Chris’s brother. She turns the indicator light on and pulls over by the side of the road, just ahead of him.  
She rolls her window down and greets him, “Hi. Need a lift?”  
“Oh, hi.” He replies in slight confusion. “Well, I’m just wandering around, no real destination.”  
“Me too. Want to join forces?”  
He smiles at that and she gives him a smile in return. She realizes that is the first smile of her day, but chases that thought away as he enters the car. While he fastens his seatbelt, she goes to change the music, but he stops her.  
“Could you leave it? I like Purcell.”  
“You recognize this?”  
“Well, I did finish the music academy.” He replies with a smile.  
She shakes her head, “Yeah, sorry, I forgot. I had you confused with your brother.”  
“You mean the black sheep.”  
“Yeah, him.”  
“Do I remind you that much of him?”  
“No, not really. You two seem really different, both physically and mentally.”  
“Yeah, he’s more like our dad and I take more after my mum.”  
They talk as she drives around the town.  
“So, what made you wander around the town if you don’t mind me asking?”  
He hesitates for a moment and then takes a breath and replies, “Well, romantic troubles, really or lack thereof, I might say.”  
“Lack of romantic troubles?”  
“It’s just that we’ve been together for a while now, but recently it’s like I don’t know her. It’s like she’s a stranger who I share a flat with.”  
“Wow, I’m sorry to hear that. You seem like a good pair. Grant it, I only saw you together that one time after the concert, so I might not be the best judge.”  
“She is amazing. She is smart and beautiful and an amazing musician, but there’s still something missing. It’s like after those couple of years of passion, I expected there to be love or something…”  
He is quiet for a while and she quietly says, “And there isn’t?”  
He replies just as quietly, “No. there is friendship, but it’s almost as if she’s my sister. I care about her, I respect her and she means a great deal to me, but… you know that feeling of not seeing your life as worth living without something?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Well, I feel that way about music, but…”  
“But not about her.”  
“You know what I mean?”  
“It’s like that for me and art in general. Reading and writing and painting and music… I’m a glutton and I can’t see myself as being able to live without that.”  
“And that’s me and music. I love music, playing it, listening to it, composing… And I expected to feel that way about the person I’m with. Perhaps we are only designed to love one thing like that in our lives and everything else then has to come second.”  
“I don’t think that, I don’t want to think like that. I want both – I want to love art and to love another person.”  
“Yeah, well…” he trails off.  
They drive for a while just listening to the music. Tom then asks her, “So, what makes you drive around aimlessly?”  
“Similar to your reason, lack of romance.”  
“You?”  
“Yeah. I tried something, but the guy wasn’t interested, so I’m stuck like this, thinking of him while he’s not thinking about me.”  
“That sucks.” He pauses for a moment and then asks, “Do I know him?”  
She is quiet for a moment, thinking about how to answer, and she remembers his candidness and decides to return the favour, “You do know him. It’s Chris.”  
“My brother Chris?”  
“Yeah.”  
“You’re into him?” he asks, incredulity in his voice evident.  
“Technically I’m trying to get over him. Slowly but surely.”  
“Well, did you tell him? Did he refuse?”  
“He sort of pre-empted my question, but I still told him I liked him. But nothing came out of it. Part of me is actually happy nothing happened, to be honest.”  
“Why?”  
“Well, recently he’s been showing a different side of himself. You know when you like a person and you build them up in your head. You give them characteristics they don’t necessarily possess… Well, that’s what’s been happening recently. I thought he was one type of person, but now I see that’s not who he is. He is less caring than I thought, less respectful and very set in his ways. He’s like an old man who believes the world revolves around him. It’s like he doesn’t believe he can ever be wrong and that is not something I think highly of. He might consider himself to be at a “higher level of consciousness” or some other bullshit like that, but if being like that means neglecting your friends and being rude and not apologize when you do them wrong, then I don’t want that.”  
“Well, you really gave this some thought.”  
“Now you know why my petrol bill for this past month is enormous.”  
“I bet. And I understand what you mean about him not being respectful of others, I’ve known him all my life and he’s always been like that.”  
“Being like that is not an excuse. A person, rational, observant person can see those things and work towards fixing them or at least he can pretend to be different. Be he would think that to be a sin against who he is. But being yourself in only a good thing when you don’t hurt the people around you by doing that. And he keeps insulting and hurting the people around him.  
She is a bit upset by the conversation so she pulls over at a parking lot.  
“Sorry, I need a minute. I shouldn’t drive when I’m this upset. It looks I’ve hit the ‘anger’ stage of dealing with grief.”  
“That’s ok, and I’m good with just sitting here and talking. Or, if you want, we can go for a walk. We’re really close to the park.”  
She looks at the sky and says, “Yeah, the weather is surprisingly good. Let’s.”  
They leave the car and go for a stroll through the nearby park.  
Tom is the first to start talking. “This characteristic of his leaves him a bit cold in my opinion. Almost calculating. And that is the same thing I’m starting to mind about Angie. She is a nice person, but there’s this warmth that’s lacking. I’m not talking about sappy messages and unicorns and butterflies, but anniversaries, little presents just because, little shows of affection. I try, but she’s just not responding.”  
“Have you tried talking to her about this?”  
“Yes, of course, but I either can’t explain it right or she simply can’t understand this need I have.”  
“I’m really sorry, Tom.”  
They walk in silence for a long while and then he starts humming a tune – Purcell’s tune they were listening to in the car. She joins him and they walk in rhythm for a few minutes simply enjoying the music and the nature.  
They notice a small bench overlooking the cliffs of the cove just below the park and they sit there. The conversation flows smoothly, they talk about music and soon they are both so enthusiastic that they are facing each other leaning forward and interrupting each other’s sentences. They are so focused on each other that they don’t notice a person approaching them.  
“Hi,” the person says and Tom and Carrie are both shocked to hear Chris’s voice.  
“Oh, hi,” they both say at the same time.  
Chris looks at them in confusion, first at Carrie and then at his brother. “What are you two doing here?”  
Chris is looking at Tom for the answer but it is Carrie who speaks, “Building a car. What does it look like we’re doing?” the answer came out a little harsher than she intended and was about to apologize when she feels Tom’s hand on her own.  
“That’s a stupid question, Chris. If you must know, we ran into each other and just started talking. What brings you here?”  
Chris is still a little confused but he replies, “just wanted to clear my head a bit.”  
“It looks like all three of us had the same idea.”  
“Yeah.”  
Carrie considers moving a bit in order to make room for Chris on the bench, but again she feels Tom’s hand on her arm stopping her.  
“So, we’re still on for dinner tonight?” Tom asks Chris.  
“Yes.” Chris replies.  
“Good. See you then.” Tom says simply, not giving Chris the option of staying.  
“Ok, see you tonight. By Carrie.” He looks at the two of them on the bench once more and then he is gone.  
Carrie breathes a sigh of relief.  
“You did well.”  
“Not really, but thank you.”  
“You are strong enough to say no to him. Don’t sell yourself short.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“Well, you like him, I get that. But you said it yourself, it’s like you fancy a guy you want him to be, not the guy he necessarily is. You deserve someone better.”  
“Oh. Thank you.”  
They sit quietly for a while, Carrie thinking about Tom’s words, and Tom trying to figure out what the feeling waking up in him is.  
The sun goes down and the chill in the air snaps Carrie back to reality. She looks at her watch and sighs. “I’ll have to go soon. I have choir practice tonight, and I should eat something beforehand.”  
“Oh, OK.”  
“Do you need me to drive you somewhere?”  
“Home, if that’s no too much out of your way.”  
“Of course not.”  
“I live…”  
“I know, I drove Angie home once.”  
They walk to the car and then drive in silence. Just before they reach his apartment building Tom breaks the silence, “would you mind going for coffee sometimes? I mean if you want to talk…”  
“I’d love to.”  
They exchange phone numbers and then say goodbye.  
She drives away feeling a bit lighter in her soul. She feels like one more bit of her that had fallen for Chris is back to normal. She’s not all the way back, yet, but she’s getting there.


	2. Chapter 2

Carrie is walking down the street towards her car. She had to park very far away from the music centre because of all the tourists, but she doesn’t really mind. The night is clear and warm. She’s enjoying the walk when she notices someone walking behind her and coming closer and closer. She moves to the side so the other person can pass by her but they don’t pass. Instead the person moves towards her and reaches for her arm. The force of the grab makes her yell out in pain. She realizes what is about to happen and she screams and runs away. The man runs after her and follows her for a minute before giving up.   
When she realizes the man is no longer following her she relaxes a bit, closing her eyes. That will prove to be the exactly wrong thing to do at that moment, because she fails to see the little step in the path so she trips over it and falls down. She screams again, reaching for her ankle.   
A dozen swear words go through her head. She tries to stand up and that is when the swearing is no longer in her head. The ankle is too painful to stand on. It doesn’t feel like she’s broken her ankle, it’s probably just a bad sprain but she will need some help to get to her car.   
She looks around trying to see if there are any passers-by to help her, but there is no one around. She is in Chris’s and Tom’s neighbourhood. She sends both of them the same message: “Hi, are you awake? Are you home?”  
She waits for two minutes when her phone rings. It’s Tom.  
“Hello.”  
“Hi, Carrie. What’s up?”  
She takes a deep breath to calm her voice. She doesn’t want to worry him. The pause doesn’t really suit Tom, so he asks again, “Is everything ok, Carrie?”  
“Oh, yeah. Just… you know that bus stop just across the road from the swimming pool?”  
“Yeah, I know it.”  
“Well, I’ve just sprained my ankle…”  
She can hear him gasp, “I’m coming.”  
“No need to rush, I’ll be here. It’s not too bad, but I will need some help to get to my car.”  
“I’ll be there in 2 minutes.” She can hear him opening the apartment door and running down the staircase. “I’ll hang up now, but if anything changes call me. I’m coming.”  
“Tom?”  
“Yes?”  
“Thank you.”  
He stops running and says softly, “Don’t worry.”  
They both hang up and she tries to calm her breathing. She spends the time trying to come up with a believable story. She is clumsy, but what if he doesn’t believe her. She’ll say she heard something and that spooked her. That might work. Just as she decides on the final elements of her story, she can see Tom running towards her. He was actually running!  
“Hi.”  
“Hi, Tom, thank you so much.”  
“So, the ankle?”  
“Yeah I tried to stand on the leg, but it’s too painful.”  
“What happened?” he asks as he helps her get up. She begins her story and then he notices the ripped sleeve of her dress and the bruise and scratch on her arm. His fingers touch the ripped garment and interrupt her in a whisper, “What really happened, Carrie?”  
She looks up at him and sees what his eyes are focused on. She tries to cover the bruise but the ripped sleeve just falls down again.   
“There was a man.”  
Tom’s face turns from inquisitive to angry to determined in a matter of seconds.   
“He’s gone. I ran away.”  
“Did you recognize him?”  
“No. I didn’t see his face. All I noticed was a tattoo of a bike on his forearm.”  
“Ok, hospital first, and then the police.”  
“There’s no need for the hospital, it’s just a sprain.”  
“But what about proof against the man?”  
“What proof. It’s not like they can lift fingerprints from my dress.”  
“So he used protection. But there must still be some evidence….”  
That’s when she understands Tom’s words and the paleness of his face. She reaches for his hand and looks him in the eyes. It is strange, but this need to calm him down calms her down as well. “Tom,” he looks at her. “He didn’t do anything. He tried to grab me, but I ran away. He followed but I was faster, I guess, so he gave up after a while.” He still looks incredulously at her, “I’m ok. He didn’t hurt me.”  
That’s when the colour returns to his face and he takes a deep breath. The look of relief on his face brings her to tears. He reaches for her slowly, fearing he might startle her, but she leans in and he embraces her gently. “Thank god.” His warm embrace makes her feel safe for the first time since the incident. She lets go completely. Through the tears he can hear her say, “I was so scared.” Over and over again. He runs his fingers through her hair and whispers, “It’s ok. You are safe now. I’m here. He can’t hurt you.”  
They stay like that for a long while until she finally calms down.   
“We should get you home and put some ice on that ankle. Where did you park?”  
“Just down the street.”   
“Ok. I’ll drive you just tell me where to go.”  
They shuffle somehow to her car and he drives them to her apartment. The climb up the stairs to the third floor is a little painful, but they manage it. When they reach her door, she turns to thank him, but he insists on staying.   
“Don’t you have to go home?”  
“I want to make sure you’re ok.”   
“Oh, my cat will protect me.”  
“She will, will she?”  
“You haven’t met Ginger.” She says and smiles.  
“There it is.”  
“What?”  
“That smile. I was afraid I wouldn’t see it tonight.”  
She blushes a bit and lets them into her apartment. They go to her kitchen. She sits at the counter while he gets a bag of frozen peas from her freezer. He kneels by her, takes her shoe off and places the cold bag gently on her ankle.   
“Tom,” she says and he looks up at her from the floor. “thank you, really. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t called.”   
He chooses his words carefully, “I meant to ask, how come you texted me?”  
“Well, it happened close to your apartment so I texted you.”   
“But, Chris was even closer.” Still there is that question in his eyes but she doesn’t reply. He understands then. “You did text him.”  
“Yeah, but he didn’t reply.”  
A little flash of anger crosses his face, but he hides it straight away. “Oh, well, I replied. Nothing else is important. And whenever you…” he doesn’t finish the sentence but she gets what he wants to say.  
He helps her to the couch with a glass of water and some snacks on the coffee table and a little blanket by her side if she feels cold during the night. He leaves, but not before saying, “if you need anything… even if you just want to talk, call me, ok? Whenever.”  
“Even in the middle of the night?”  
“Any time.” He replies softly and leaves her apartment with one last look at her on the couch. A thousand thoughts running through his head, a dozen emotions rushing through his body - concern and anger most prominent. Anger at the man that attacked her and at his brother. He can’t deal with the man, but his brother, him he can deal with. He gets on the bus and goes to his brother’s place.


	3. Chapter 3

Tom is almost out of breath when he reaches Chris’s apartment. He foregoes the doorbell but hits the door with his fist a couple of times. Chris opens the door after the 3rd bang.  
“Good, you’re alive and well. Good. Now let’s see if I’m going to kill you or just hurt you seriously.” He says with a confused Chris just staring at him.   
“What are you talking about, Tom?”  
“What have you been doing this past hour and a half? Sleeping?”  
“No, just looking at things online. Why?”  
“Is your phone dead?”   
“No. Again, why?”  
“Ok, good to know. I’m killing you then.” Tom says and punches Chris in the face. Chris yells in confusion but he is again surprised by another hit. This time straight in the solar plexus and he collapses on the floor.   
“What is wrong with you, have you gone crazy?”  
“You idiot,” Tom screams over Chris and considers kicking him while he’s down. “Do you know what happened?”  
“No,” Chris yells back and tries to shield himself from further hits.  
“She was attacked! And she needed your help, and you weren’t there!”  
“What are you talking about? Who was attacked? Did something happen to Angie?”  
“No, you idiot. Carrie! She was attacked.”  
“What do you mean attacked?”  
“A man attacked her. He tried to hurt her but she managed to escape. But she needed your help and you ignored her.”  
“Where is she? How is she?”  
“What, like now you care?”  
“Of course I care, I---“  
“Why didn’t you reply to her message then?”  
“I didn’t think it was important. I was going to reply tomorrow---“  
He didn’t finish the word because Tom punched him again.  
“Stop it.”  
“No! You should have seen her. Damn it, Chris, she could have really been hurt.”  
“Where is she?”  
“She went home.”  
“You let her go alone?”  
“Fuck off, you idiot. Of course not.”  
Tom looks at Chris and notices the redness appearing around his left eye. That is going to hurt in the morning. He notices another thing, a look of concern on his face. He cares about Carrie, in his own way, but he truly cares. It helps Chris’s case a little bit, but not enough to stop Tom from making him hurt just a little bit more.   
“If she hadn’t texted me, right now she would still be alone on the street and hurt and the fucker might have found her again. Just think about that.”  
Chris is speechless as Tom leaves the apartment. As he is walking down the stairs, Tom can hear something crash in Chris’s apartment. Good, he thinks to himself.


	4. Chapter 4

Chris comes to Carrie’s door and knocks. There is no answer so he tries the door and it’s unlocked. He enters the apartment and he can hear the shower turn off. He calls for Carrie but she doesn’t reply. He tries calling her again and he knocks on the bathroom door. Again there is no answer. He is worried now. He cracks open the door and he can see her crouched in the corner of the shower, naked and trembling. He calls her name again and she shakes even more. He approaches her and tires to reach for her but as soon as she feels his touch she whimpers and retreats even further into the shower.  
“Carrie, please, it’s me. Hey, it’s ok, it’s me.”  
She still doesn’t snap out. He looks at her and doesn’t know what to do. He sits on the bathroom floor and considers his options. He decides to call Tom as.  
“Yea.”  
“Hi. I need advice.”  
“About what.”  
“Carrie.”  
“Look man, just call her tomo---“  
“No, I mean now.”  
“What do you mean now?” Chris can hear the anger in Tom’s voice.  
“She’s in the shower and she won’t come out.”  
“What the FUCK do you mean she won’t come out of the shower?”   
“You see, I came to her place and entered.----“  
“You absolute moron? How stupid can you be? No, don’t answer that. Just leave the bathroom, make sure the heating is on, and wait for me in the hallway. I’m on my way! And pray, pray to any God you know that I don’t kill you when I see you.”  
Chris does what Tom has told him and waits for him at the door. When Tom arrives he gives Chris a death stare and just says, “I’ll deal with you tomorrow,” and continues to the bathroom with Chris following him quietly.  
He slowly approaches the shower and enters it. He kneels down by Carrie but is careful not to touch her. He whispers Carrie’s name but she doesn’t respond. He thinks for a moment and then starts humming that Purcell tune they both like. He slowly places his hand on hers, and he can hear Chris ask, “What are you doing.”  
“Fuck off,” Tom mouths and returns his attention to Carrie. “Hey, darlin’. Do you remember the rest of the tune? I don’t.”  
Chris looks at Carrie who has stopped shaking and there is a soft humming coming from her now.  
“That’s it, now I remember,” and Tom joins her in humming.  
Chris looks at two of them, crouching in the shower, humming an unknown tune. He notices Carrie starting to relax and move away from the wall. Tom is right there to hold her as she leans towards his voice. He hugs her and unconsciously hides her from Chris’s view.   
Carrie’s arms reach around Tom and he whispers in her ear for the second time that evening, “It’s ok. You are safe now. I’m here. He can’t hurt you.”   
Carrie is now in Tom’s lap and Chris has to look away because this is the most intimate thing he has ever witnessed.  
The humming continues for a few minutes and then Chris hears Tom ask quietly, “Is there a towel around?”  
Chris doesn’t register Tom’s question at first, but he repeats it and Chris hands him a tower from the rack by the shower. Tom wraps the towel around Carrie and whispers in her ear, “I’m taking you to your room.” He lifts her into his arms and steps out of the shower and heads towards Carrie’s room.   
“Bring another towel,” Tom says to Chris.  
“Where are your pyjamas?” Tom asks Carrie and she points towards her pillow. He takes them out and lays them on the bed next to her. “Put these on, I’ll be right back.” He leaves the bedroom and motions Chris to follow him. In the kitchen Tom puts the kettle on and takes his sneakers off.   
“Your trousers are wet as well.”  
“I’m not taking them off, I’m not stupid. I need to go back to her room.” Tom replies with a barely hidden anger in his voice. “Just maker her some tea, I’ll come and get it in a couple of minutes. I believe you can do that at least without making things any more worse.” Chris is about to reply, but Tom just leaves the kitchen.   
Tom goes back to her bedroom, “Hi, Carrie, it’s me, Tom. Can I come in?” She is just sitting on her bed, her pyjama trousers on but the shirt is over her knees. She is tracing the scratch marks on her shoulder.  
“Is this going to stay here forever?” she asks in a daze. Tom looks at her as if he is seeing her for the first time. He is used to seeing her strong and outspoken, and now she is this scared and shy creature. He comes closer and sits next to her on her bed. His fingers join hers in tracing the wound, “It will go away. We’ll make sure of that.” Then he takes her pyjama shirt and puts it on her. His hand goes to her face and he makes her look at him. “I’ll make sure it goes away. You’re safe now.” And she lays her head on his shoulder.  
They don’t notice Chris standing at the door looking at them, listening to their conversation and wondering what is this thing he is witnessing. It’s so unlike the brother he is used to seeing. He coughs softly and Tom turns and sees the tea in his hand. He whispers “just a second,” and then comes to Chris and takes the tea from him. He places the mug on the nightstand by her bed.   
“You should drink this, it will help you sleep.” While he says that he starts towelling her hair. He is gentle and he hums as he does it.   
Chris sits on the floor by the door and looks at the two of them. He tries to imagine himself in Tom’s place. Then his mind goes to the events of the evening. He remembers receiving her text message and just ignoring it thinking he’d reply later, in the morning, and that she would understand as always. He remembers Tom coming to his apartment and beating him senseless. He’d never seen him like that before. Never. He remembers entering her apartment and her bathroom and seeing her in the shower. He realizes then what a stupid move that had been. He realizes then that, like always, he was only thinking of himself. He remembers countless other instances when he’d considered only himself and he feels ashamed.   
He is brought back to the moment by Tom’s going through Carrie’s desk.  
“What are you looking for?” he asks.  
“Pen and paper.”  
“Why?”  
“I want to leave her a note saying I’m in the apartment for when she wakes up.”  
“Put my name on as well.”  
“Yeah?”  
“Yeah.”  
Tom writes the note and the two of them go to the living room.  
“I would have never thought of that,” Chris says as Tom finally takes his wet trousers off.  
“Of what?”  
“Leaving the note.”  
“Oh. It’s kind of---“  
“Obvious, I know. I know. She’s been through too much. Waking up to strange noises in her apartment shouldn’t be added to the list.”  
“No, it shouldn’t.”  
“How come you thought of that? Are you that compassionate or is it just that I’m such an idiot?”  
“Neither. Both. I don’t know. I just think of what I would be like in this situation and that’s it.”  
“That easy?”  
“No. It’s not that easy with everyone…”  
“But it is with Carry?” there is an accusing look on Chris’s face, perhaps even a trace of jealousy. Tom doesn’t respond. It’s not worth it. “So, the two of you are friends? Since when?”  
“Only recently. We went for coffee a couple of times.”  
“Yeah?”  
“We just talk.” Chris is quiet but Tom knows him so well. “Do you want to know what we talk about?”  
“Isn’t that private?”  
“Details, yes. But the general topic. I think you should know that…. We talk about you.”  
“Me?”  
“Yeah. Her feelings towards you, her frustrations with you, with everything.”  
Chris is quiet. He considers what Tom has just said and that’s when Tom gives him his opinion of the entire situation: “Brother, you are fucking things up with her.”  
This surprises Chris. “What do you mean?”  
“Cancelling on her because you’re ‘sleeping’, not replying to her messages, playing hot and cold with her, not making an effort… Do I need to go on? I can if you want me to.”  
Each comment is like a slap across his face and each one rings with truth.  
“I really am an idiot.”  
“Yeah, and she deserves more than an idiot! But she wanted you and you kept pushing her away by being a moron.”  
“You know I don’t do that on purpose.”  
“I do. But you are also not making an effort to change that.”   
“But that would be changing who I am.”  
“Again, you are right. But in this case, who you are is an idiot.”  
“Hey!”  
Tom just looks at him and Chris says, “Yeah, ok, you got me there.”


	5. Chapter 5

Carrie wakes up and hears voices coming from her living room. She is still for a moment, fearing the worst and then she sees the note on her nightstand:  
Don’t panic.  Chris and I are in the living room   
Tom  
She remembers bits and pieces of what had happened after she got into the shower. She remembers hearing someone enter the apartment. She realizes now that it was Chris. She takes a deep breath and prepares to enter the living room but she stops just outside her bedroom door and listens in on the conversation.  
“Yeah, ok, you got me there.”  
“But why?” Tom asks.  
“Why what?”  
“Why don’t you ask her out?”  
“Fear.”  
“What? Fear of being with someone who’s your friend?”  
“That’s part of it. But mostly I’m scared of her.”  
“Why would you be scared of her? Wait, wait… it’s because she speaks her mind and isn’t as easily impressed by your intellect as those other girls.”  
“Well, maybe.”  
“In that case, you’re right to be scared of her. You might be smart and you might have even dated women who weren’t houseplants, but she is different. She is in a league of her own.”  
“Don’t I know it. And it’s not like she’s afraid to show it.”  
“What, so you would rather date someone with an IQ of room temperature than someone who can actually challenge you? Are you that hungry for validation?”  
She smiles at this question and at Chris’s reply.  
“It’s just easier.”  
“Has ever anything that’s easy brought anyone happiness? By thinking that way you might get a girlfriend, or even a wife, but not a life partner.”  
She listens to all this and when she realizes Chris isn’t going to answer she enters the living room.  
“I wake up to find a half-naked man in my living room. Nice legs, ever consider modelling?” she looks at Tom and smiles.   
Both Tom and Chris are surprised by her entrance. “How are you?” Tom asks.   
She thinks for a moment and then replies, “Strange… it’s like I’m half empty. Exhausted, emotionally exhausted.”  
“Understandable.” Tom replies as she takes a seat next to him on the couch.  
“Thank you,” she says looking at Tom. “I feel kind of silly and a bit embarrassed. You had to get into the shower with me. You must be soaking wet.”  
“It’s ok. I dried myself with one of your towels and the trousers are on the clothes rack on the balcony. So it’s ok.”  
“Oh god.” She groans and covers her face with her hands. “You guys saw me naked.”  
“We weren’t really focusing on that at the moment. Besides, you were balled up in the corner so there wasn’t much to see.” He lowers her hands so she can see him. “Honestly, it’s ok.”  
There is a silence between the three of them and Tom breaks it. “Will you be ok if Chris stays with you for an hour while I go get changed?”  
“There is no need---“ she begins to say but Chris interrupts her.   
“Of course. You go, Tom, I’ll be here.”  
Tom and Carrie exchange a look, she nods and he says ok. She follows him to the balcony and he gets dressed. “You sure you’ll be ok?”  
“Yeah. Sure.”  
“I’ll be back as soon as I can.”  
She goes to the door with him, “Thank you, once again… I feel really awful, taking up all this time. It’s like I’m this weak thing.”   
Tom is the one who interrupts her, “Don’t. You’re not weak and there’s nowhere I’d rather be.” When they both realize what he’d just said they freeze. The moment seems to last forever. He leans his forehead against hers and turns and leaves. She closes the door behind him and waits to calm her breathing down before returning to the living room.   
When she sees Chris he is looking through her record collection.  
“Some selection you have here.”  
“Yeah, books and music, my addiction.”  
She turns the TV on and channel surfs for a minute or so and then settles on a movie, an action comedy, exactly what she needs right now, something to make her not think about everything that has happened.  
They are startled from the movie by the sound of the doorbell. She goes to the door and it’s Tom, his hair still wet from the shower.   
“Hi.”  
“Hi, that was fast.” She smiles.  
“Yeah. Hi Chris.”  
“Hi.”  
“What have you been up to?”  
“Not much. Just watching a movie.” Chris replies.  
“Oh I saw this one, fun.”  
“Yeah, mindless fun. Just what the doctor ordered.” Carrie adds.  
“Oh, while we’re at it, how is your ankle?”  
“Better. It hurts only when I place my full weight on it.”  
Tom sits next to Carrie again and Chris asks, “You planning on staying here?”  
“Yeah. I have no obligations in the morning.”  
“Ok. I’ll go then.” Chris gets up to leave. “And, Carrie, once again sorry about this evening. About everything.”  
“It’s ok. I get it.” Carrie replies and gets up to follow Chris to the door but he tells her he’ll show himself out.  
Once the door closes behind Chris Carrie breathes a long breath. Tom looks at her understanding everything. He covers her hand with his and gives her a gentle squeeze.  
“Are you hungry?” he suddenly asks.   
She is about to answer no, but then she realizes she is starving. “Yeah. Want to order something?”  
“Why not cook?” he asks.  
“Or we could cook. There must be something in the fridge.”  
“I’ll whip up something.”  
“You?”  
“Yeah. You’ll be my sous chef, but it’s my show tonight.” He says and smiles as he helps her to the kitchen. Once again she sits at the counter and watches him rummage through her fridge. He is a professional at work, boiling water, chopping vegetables and measuring entirely too much pasta for just the two of them.  
After half an hour there are two warm plates of pasta with vegetables in front of them. They eat in silence and then he washes the plates, leaving the pot of leftovers on the counter for later.  
They return to the living room and now it’s his turn to look at her collections. He looks at the records, chooses one and places it carefully in the turntable and turns it on.   
She smiles at his choice, “I love this song.”  
“Me too. When you feel better we’ll dance to this.”  
“Why not now?”  
“Your ankle.”  
“Oh, that won’t be a problem. We can sway.”  
He looks at her and the determined look on her face decides it. “Ok.”   
He takes her hand into his. They dance and the distance between them decreases as the song goes on. Both her hands are around his neck and his are around his waist. Again she feels safe in his arms. The song ends and another one comes on but they don’t stop swaying. He begins to hum with the song. One of her hands moves to his hair and she runs her fingers through it, her head resting against his. His humming is interrupted by a soft moan when she scratches his scalp. She smiles at that little unguarded moment. “You like that?” she asks.  
“Very much.”  
“Good to know.”   
They continue swaying and she continues playing with his hair. He presses her even closer to him. The needle of the turntable reaches the end of the record and the two of them just stand there holding each other.   
She takes a deep breath, hides her head against his chest and says, “I was so scared.”  
He lovers his head, his lips touching her hair, “I’m here. You’re safe now. I’m not letting go.”  
After a while he lifts her head a bit so he can look into her eyes. His fingers running through her hair. “I was scared too. When I saw you sitting in the middle of the street, and when you told me about the attack…” he shakes his head. “But you’re ok now, we’re ok. And you’re safe.”  
They look at each other, both dying to kiss each other but instead they lean foreheads together. Their breaths mingling together.  
“I’m not leaving you tonight,” he says.  
“What about---“ she begins to say but he stops her.  
“No. Don’t. Not tonight.” She understands him and she nods.   
“Want to watch something?” she offers as she leaves his embrace.  
“No. Would you… would you mind reading me something?”  
“Anything special?”  
“Poetry perhaps? Something you like.”  
She goes to the bookshelf and looks through it. Her fingers caressing the spines of the books gently, lovingly and Tom looks at the scene, envious of the books. She retrieves a hefty white volume.  
“This one,” she says as she sits on the couch again. She opens the book to one of the bookmarked pages and he turns her so she is leaning against his chest and he can see the pages over her shoulder. She skims through the poem on the bookmarked page and then turns to another page.  
“Why not that one?” he wonders.  
“Not yet. We’ll start off slow with Yates.”  
She starts reading, her voice shaky at first but then more secure as the lines go on. The poem is short but beautiful and her pauses and emphasis create a perfect atmosphere. She stops at the end taking a deep breath,   
“And.”  
“Wow! I haven’t heard that one before.”  
“More?” she asks.  
“Yes.”  
She reads one poem after another and he is amazed by her voice and by the poet’s skill. Finally she returns to the first poem she opened.   
“Is now the time?”  
“I think you are ready. It’s not a love poem. This one is more existential than anything else.”  
“The Second Coming? Is it about the second coming?”  
“In a way.”  
She reads it and he is again mesmerised.  
“Wow, one could spend hours talking about this poem. So many things.”  
“And I have. This poem is one of the favourites of my group of friends from uni.”  
“Do you miss them? You didn’t study here, so I presume they aren’t here now.”  
“No they aren’t here. And I miss them, but we chat almost every day, so there’s that. And I go back there whenever I can.”  
She is about to close the book when he whispers, “What about that bookmark?” and points to the pale brown bookmark sticking out somewhere in the middle of the book.  
“Oh, that.”   
She doesn’t open to the spot in the book so he stretches his hand and opens it for her, “please.”  
She takes a deep breath and moves the papyrus bookmark. She is careful with the bookmark, setting it next to her on the couch. This poem she reads in a whisper. “Aedh Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven…”  
After she finishes this song they are both quiet. He pulls her even closer to him, and she leans her head against his chest. They breathe together and close their eyes. His scent is comforting and warming.  
She slowly falls asleep. He sees this and smiles a small smile. He notices how well she fits against his chest. He feels a pang of guilt when he remembers Angie, but then he chases the thought away.   
He starts to think about the call this evening, him running to where she was waiting. He remembers his anxiousness and fear when she was telling him about the attack. That is when he notices her start to move a little bit in his arms. She starts mumbling something and shaking her head. He realizes she must be dreaming about the attack when she starts talking in her sleep. “No, stop.”  
He gently puts his palm against her face and caresses her. “Darlin’, please, wake up. It’s just a dream. I’m here. You’re safe now.”  
She wakes up with a piercing scream and is confused by Tom being so close to her. She tries to get away but his gentle voice calling her name calms her down. She returns to his embrace and she can’t stop the tears.  
He runs his fingers through her hair and kisses her forehead. The tears slip down her cheeks and he doesn’t think – his lips move and collect the tears. The salty taste is a new one for him. His lips continue down her cheek and reach the corner of her lips. So close to where he wants to kiss her, but still, miles away. He crosses the distance then, but doesn’t connect with her lips at once. He hovers millimetres away. He can feel the heat of her and her shallow breaths. He steels himself and their lips touch for the first time.   
It is just a simple touch at first. Neither of them moving. They both open their eyes and look for answers there. He feels too much inside and now there are tears welling up in his eyes. She notices them and moves away. He starts to say that he’s sorry, but she stops him with her fingers on his lips. A couple of tears escape down his cheek and she wipes them away before placing her lips on his again. This second kiss is just as soft and chaste as the first one. A simple touching of lips.  
She ends the kiss, looks him in the eye, nods and then returns her head to his chest. His hand makes small circles against her back and she soon falls back asleep. He runs his fingers through her hair and remembers the feel of her fingers doing the same earlier. He had missed it, he didn’t realize just how much. Angie doesn’t like to touch other people’s hair, or having her hair touched for that matter. Such a simple thing but just one in a long line of things he has had to give up with Angie. One might say it’s an insignificant thing, but here, and now it didn’t seem insignificant.  
He didn’t notice his eyes closing, he just fell asleep. His dreams were foggy. There were trees around him, strange voices were calling out his name. He tried to get to the voices but he couldn’t.  
When he woke up it was well past midnight. Carrie was still curled up against him. He smiled at her peaceful face. Very slowly and carefully he moved a bit, picked her up and carried her to her bedroom. While he was carrying her she nuzzled even closer to him and it almost broke his heart. His brother was an idiot. If he was free to be with her and if she wanted him he wouldn’t hesitate a minute.   
But he wasn’t free and he wasn’t his brother. So, all he could do was place her gently on her bed, cover her with the blanket and sit on the floor next to her bed, listening to her breathe.  
Carry woke up in the morning and the first thing she saw was a mop of unruly hair resting on the bed beside her pillow and a hand covering her hair. Tom had stayed the night. She carefully moves her hand and starts playing with a lock of his hair. She smiles when he hears a small sound of pleasure escape his lips.  
“Morning,” he whispers.  
“Morning,” she replies.  
He lifts his head, rubs his eyes and looks at her. “How are you this morning?”  
“Good. Better. And you? Your back must be killing you.”  
“It’s ok.”  
“You didn’t have to sleep on the floor.”  
“I just didn’t want to leave you alone.”  
“Thank you.”  
They look at each other for long minute. Thousands of unspoken thoughts go through their heads.  
He looks away and notices the time. A worried frown settles across his face, “I have to go. Sorry.”  
She starts to get up. “Of course. Let me---“  
“No, stay in bed, rest some more. Text me later so I know you’re ok.”  
“Sure.” She lies back in bed.  
He gets up to leave, but returns to her bed, leans towards her and rests his forehead against hers. He closes his eyes and whispers, “I don’t want to leave.”  
She replies, “I don’t want you to leave.”  
He takes another look at her and leaves the apartment.


	6. Chapter 6

On the way to his apartment Tom thinks about how his life has changed over the previous 24 hours. 24 hours ago he was a normal, although slightly unhappy man, living with a girlfriend who he couldn’t understand. He had a brother who was annoying and a friend he sometimes talked to.  
Now, he had a girlfriend who he did not miss, a brother who he was angry with and envious of, and a friend who made him feel more alive and more himself than anyone else before.  
In a word, he was screwed.  
Half way to his apartment he checked his phone, there was a text from Angie and a missed call from Chris. The text said, Are u coming home? If yes, buy Brussel sprouts.  
He decided to ignore both Angie and Chris, and he called his mum instead and they arranged to meet for coffee near her work.  
“Hi, mum.” He greets her when she joins him at his table.   
“Hi, darlin’. Don’t get me wrong, but you look awful. Partying all night isn’t easy when you are in your 30s, is it?”  
“I wasn’t partying. A friend needed my help.”  
“Oh, a friend.”  
“Yeah, Carrie.”  
“Chris Carrie?” she asks and notices a strange look cross Tom’s face.  
“Carrie. She had a problem, and I helped.”  
“How come she didn’t ask Chris?” again she notices the same look, a mixture of pain and anger.  
“She did. But you know Chris. He ignored her text.” He sees her shake her head in disapproval, so he quickly explains. “She didn’t really spell out she needed help, so there is no need to get too angry with him. He couldn’t have known that she was…” and he can’t complete the sentence because he remembers the look of terror on her face after waking up from the nightmare.  
“Ok, ok. So, why the coffee with me? I don’t mind, but it’s just that you don’t usually call me in the middle of the week asking to meet.”   
“Well. It’s … I don’t know how to… You and dad, you love each other still? Even after all these years?”  
“Of course. I couldn’t imagine my life without him. What’s more, I don’t want to imagine my life without him.”  
“But you met when you were what, 24? 25? Did you know it then? Did you love him then as you do now?”  
“Well, I fancied your dad for a long while. He was, and still is, a handsome man. But I think it was the hair that did it for me. But, no, this love came on slowly. The more I got to know him, the more I loved him. He became a part of me.”  
“And the passion?”  
“The passion was there at the beginning. But passion is very soon replaced by this deeper feeling. This need you feel for them as a person, not just for their bodies. It’s the give and take of it all.” She blushes at that, clears her throat and continues. “Passion is an amazing thing. It makes your whole body sing and tingle with a single touch. You feel like you could burst into flames with just one look. But what comes after that is almost indescribable. It is like there is no distinction between you and the other person. It is softer, gentler than that first passion, but oh so much deeper.  
“Imagine feeling someone’s touch on your skin, that’s passion. Now try to imagine that same touch in your bones, in your lungs. It’s so strange at first, but you soon realize that his touch is all you need and that he doesn’t have to touch you for you to feel it.”  
He listens to her description and his thoughts take him back to the previous night with Carrie and he compares it with the nights he’s spent with Angie. He hates himself when he realizes that the passion is gone with Angie and that it wasn’t replaced with love.  
“Tom, darlin’, what’s the matter?” she sounds really worried.  
“What if… what if I don’t have that?”  
“Not everyone is the same. This was me and your father. You might be different.”  
“No, what if I don’t have that with Angie, but…”  
“But you do with someone else?”  
He nods and she can see the worry and pain on his face. The black circles under his eyes and the unkempt hair only add to the whole image. It hurts her to see her son in so much pain.  
“This other person, tell me about her?”  
“It’s like… like she’s me. Not the same, no, we argue, but… it’s like she’s me, only brighter, stronger. And next to her I’m more me, more free… just, more. I’m not making any sense, I know. Sorry.”  
“I understand perfectly. Now tell me about Angie.”  
He hangs his head. “I feel like I’m trying to be someone she thinks I am. I don’t feel like I’m honest when I’m around her. Especially lately. I’ve been going through this phase and I’ve wanted to talk to her, but I simply can’t. It’s like she wants me to be whole when I’m not. I’m scared to show her my wounds. I just… you know when you meet someone and you put on a mask fearing they might reject the real you, and with time you reveal your true self? Well with her I’m still in that mask, I fear. And now I resent her for not seeing me. .. I’m in such deep shit, mum. What do I do?”  
“Take it off.” A confused look on Tom’s face tells her she needs to explain herself. “The mask, take it off. Sit down with her and talk to her. She will understand. She is a great girl. She might even surprise you, you never know.”  
He nods and she continues, “Just remember she doesn’t know what’s been going on with you and that is not her fault, remember that. You are the one hiding yourself from her. So, just be gentle and honest wither her and with yourself.”  
He nods again and starts playing with his coffee cup.  
“Tom?”   
“Yes, mum?” he looks at her and there is this small enigmatic smile on her face. She puts her hand on his arm and the warmth makes him smile back at her for the first time that morning.  
“Tell me about her,” she says softly.  
His smile grows and he begins, “She has these green eyes. Not bright green or emerald, but lighter. Like olive tree leaves. She loves to read and when she reads poetry it sounds more like music than like words. Last night she read me poems by this guy Yeats---“  
“A guy named Yeats? You poor fool. You’re getting a library card for this Christmas.”  
“Oh, you’ve heard of him?”  
She just rolls her eyes and asks, “Which poems?”  
“A few. But one of her favourite ones was the one about Bethlehem and Jesus.”  
“The Second Coming. That is a good one, but not the easiest poem to understand.”   
“That is what she said. That’s why we didn’t begin with that one. When she read it I could see the sand and the beast moving over it. It was something new. And then there was this one where the poet wishes for heavens.” He looks up to see if she recognizes that one, but she doesn’t say anything so he continues. “The poet is almost begging his lover to be careful because he had given her everything of him. It’s like he has presented his darkest deepest secrets to her and now he is just hoping, almost against hope, that she won’t destroy him. It was like nothing I’d ever heard before. So short, and so much in those few lines.”  
She reaches for her bag and takes her little notebook she carries with her everywhere. She writes something on a piece of paper and rips it out. She folds it a couple of times and gives it to him. “Take this and put it in your wallet. Don’t read it now,” she says when she sees him trying to open the paper. “One day, when you are with her and you’re sitting somewhere quiet, when you are alone, when you feel you need to tell her everything she means to you, take this out and give it to her.”  
“I don’t understand.”  
“Just be patient. It will come, I’m sure of that.”  
“Why?”  
“Because of your face. I’ve seen that look on your face once before, and only once before.”  
“Yeah?”  
“The moment you played your first note on the viola. It is the face of pure love.” Her palm is against his cheek and he leans into her touch.  
“Thank you, mum.” He looks her in the eye and says, “I love you.”  
“I love you too, Tom, so much.”


	7. Chapter 7

Carrie is woken up by a message alert from her phone. She looks at the clock on the screen. It’s just after midnight. She doesn’t usually get messages this late so her mind jumps to conclusions. She sees that the message is from Tom: Hi Carrie. What are you doing today around lunchtime? Would you like to go for coffee (or food)? With me.  
Now she’s even more surprised. She spoke with Tom earlier that evening and he didn’t mention anything about this. And another thing – she hadn’t seen Tom since the attack. It’s been a week of texts and phone calls only.  
She replies to his message immediately with, I’m free all day. Where and when?

Carrie arrives at the café and Tom is already there, waiting for her. When he sees her he smiles a broad smile.  
“Hi,” they both say at the same time and smile. She orders a cup of tea and as they wait for her drink they are quiet.  
When the tea arrives Carrie plays with the spoon. She keeps wanting to say something but then she would look up and see this strange look on Tom’s face, like he too was fighting with himself. In the end, she can’t take it anymore and she asks, “So, how was your week?”  
He jups a bit because he was so deep in thought. “Eventful,” he replies.  
She is intrigued by that so she asks him what he means by that.  
“Well,” he pauses for a deep breath and mumbles to himself, “Oh, come on, like a band aid…. Well, Angie and I are no longer together.”  
“Oh, Tom, I’m so sorry.”  
He stops her, “I ended it.”  
“Oh.”   
“It just wasn’t… It just wasn’t. I had a conversation with my mum about things and she made me think. And I did. I then talked to Angie and we discussed everything. We talked about us, our plans for the future and we both saw that our plans don’t really match. So I spent the last couple of days moving back home. I’ve talked to Angie a couple of times, and I think she’s doing ok.”  
“And what about you?”  
“I’m calmer. Happier. I know what I need to do now, and I’m working towards what I want.”  
“Yeah? That’s great then. Them I’m not sorry you broke up with her,” she says and smiles at him from behind her tea cup.  
He smiles back, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He moves his hand to rest close to hers on the table top, their fingers almost touching. “Would you like to know what I’m working towards?”  
“Of course,” she says.  
He lifts his hand and hovers it over her hand, not touching her. She can feel the heat radiating from him. He looks her in the eyes and says simply, “This.” And lowers his hand over hers. “Us. If you want to give it a go.”  
She is surprised by this and for a moment she doesn’t know what to say. Then she just smiles and whispers, “Yes.”  
He is just as surprised by her reply as she was by his question. “Really?”  
“Really.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter.  
> Thanks to all who read this story.   
> L

Tom is nervous, playing with his keys. He is waiting for her. He came early so he could take the same table they were sitting at 5 months ago when he told her he wanted to be with her. It’s a special day. He is planning on telling her he loves her.  
He remembers the past months and he can’t believe the change this one person has made to his life. He is truly a better person for being with her.   
She arrives looking beautiful as always. A broad smile on her face when she sees where he is sitting. “Our table?”  
“Yes. I thought it appropriate.”  
They chat about her morning. She is talking and he is only half listening because he is thinking of how he is going to change the topic of the conversation to them and then he remembers the piece of paper his mum had given him that fateful day. He takes his wallet from his jacket, pulls the paper out, unfolds it and begins to read the poem from it interrupting Carrie mid-sentence. She doesn’t say anything, she just listens in rapture as he reads her favourite poem. 

She is standing on my lids   
And her hair is in my hair  
She has the colour of my eye   
She has the body of my hand   
In my shade she is engulfed   
As a stone against the sky

She will never close her eyes   
And she does not let me sleep   
And her dreams in the bright day   
Make the suns evaporate   
And me laugh cry and laugh   
Speak when I have nothing to say   
When he finishes he looks up and she is wearing this strange expression. “How did you know?” she asks in stunned confusion. “Why do you have that poem in your wallet?”  
“The day after your attack, you might remember, I talked with my mum. She asked me to tell her about you and after I’d finished telling her she wrote this and told me to keep it in my wallet until the right moment. I was not to read it. But she said I’d know when the right moment was, so… it just seemed like that was today.”  
“I love you,” she says suddenly.   
He wants to say it back but her lips are on his, just like that first kiss before there was anything. That simple chaste touch. Barely a whisper.   
They sit in silence next to each other and drink their teas. Afterwards they walk to her apartment and still they are quiet.   
When they enter the living room and she sits on the couch he asks her, “Could you read the poem for me?”  
“Which one?”  
“Paul Eluard.”  
“But you just read it.”  
“Yeah, but I want to hear you read it.”   
He moves to take the paper out of his wallet again but she stops him. “I don’t really need the paper. It’s my favourite poem.”  
“Then come here.” And he takes her hand into his and makes her stand up next to him.   
She begins to recite the poem and he leads them into a dance to the rhythm of the lines.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter.  
> Thanks to all who read this story.   
> L


End file.
